


Forever and Everything

by TWDObsessive



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: (or is it), Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Friendship/Love, M/M, Pining, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-02
Updated: 2018-04-12
Packaged: 2019-04-17 11:31:51
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,175
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14187987
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TWDObsessive/pseuds/TWDObsessive
Summary: Stream of consciousness from Daryl’s POV when he and Rick talk after Carl’s death.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for the beta, lotr58!

I had one thing on my mind as I marched the Alexandrians back to Hilltop. And it wasn’t Negan. It wasn’t walkers, it wasn’t swamplands, and it wasn’t war. My one thought, my only thought, was the same thing it always was – Rick. I thought of him as I held tight to his baby girl, carrying her to safety. I knew he needed me to take care of her and I didn’t hesitate to to take my place, to be where I needed to be. I’d do anything for him, anything for his family, and he knows that well. He’s my _brother_. And I don’t take such honors lightly. I’ve wished myself dead in Carl’s place a thousand times since the moment he showed me that bite.

I fell to pieces inside in that Alexandria sewer – me having this knowledge that Rick didn’t. Knowing what was going to be tumbling down on him as soon as he returned home, knowing that his _home_ was changed forever, his life ripped in two. It was literally the worst thing that could have happened in our world – to lose the hope and future we saw in Carl. To lose that strong boy who learned too soon how terrible the world could be, how terrible mankind could be.

I been waiting for Rick and Michonne to get back from Hilltop. When the gates open and Rick walks in, I breathe a sigh of relief. He goes for Judy right away and I watch him with his baby girl. He looks like half a man without Carl. His heart is so heavy I can nearly feel the weight of it myself. But that’s how things always been with me and him. I can feel him and he can feel me. ‘S stronger than words, what we got. I give him a nod, letting him know that I’m here, that he’s not alone, that we’re going to get through this together.

I think about my place with Rick often. He’s where I belong, I’ve no doubt of that. He enters my thoughts at the oddest times: when I’m shivering cold in the winter, the rare times when I’m craving comfort, when I allow myself to think of a future. Rick don’t know how much I think about him. I know its more than he thinks of me. He’s got Judith, Michonne, and now this grief that will take front and center. His grief is my front and center, too. He just doesn’t know it. Well...maybe he does. I feel him and he feels me.

I follow him around to the back of Barrington House where he’s kneeling in the grass trying to collect his thoughts. He’s expecting me. I know this. He’s so calm, almost too calm. I’d seen him go mad for lesser things and for some reason I’ve made Rick’s sanity my responsibility. Long ago I’d taken that on and I’ve seen him through other devastating blows. Lori. Jessie. Joe and the Claimers. Negan, more than once. When he crumbles apart I’m always there to pick up his pieces.

Rick has a tendency to disappear into his own head like a lost lamb in the darkness and I am his shepherd, guiding his way back. Always. I watch over him like a momma bear to her only cub. Is it because I have stronger, more complicated feelings for him than any other human being on this planet, alive or dead? Or is it that I just need someone to follow and he’s my leader? Or maybe it’s just what friends do. And Rick is my first friend. My best friend. My family.

We haven’t been spending as much time together since our world got bigger and I need him to know I’m still right here. Still strong enough to carry his burdens, to pick up his pieces, to give him my shoulder. I can listen. I can comfort. I can be anything that Rick would need. 

I walk up to him quietly but with enough of a soft rustle in the weeds that he knows I’m there. And he knows it’s me without looking because he knows the feel of me nearby and he knew I was going to follow after him before I did. Rick knows me better than I know myself and sometimes that worries me. What else does he know that I haven’t even admitted to myself? 

He waits for me to speak, so I do. 

“You know I look around and I think about the people that are gone and the people that are still here. It ain’t right and it ain’t fair.” I pause and take a deep breath, still knowing there’s a lingering disagreement between us from when we came to fists. It was stupid, a stupid thing to fight over. “Look, about what I did at the Sanctuary, trying to end it real quick...I just wanted it done. I didn’t want to give them another chance. Not again. I didn’t care who was there. I don’t know if that makes it right or…”

“It does.” Rick stands and faces me, meets my eyes with his. I like the way Rick talks to me, looks at me, always focused, always with complete sincerity. “I didn’t want to risk killing innocent people. I should have just been worrying about our people. Hell with anyone else.”

It’s what I want to hear. I want him to care more about himself, more about our group than about these nameless, honorless bodies that hole up with Negan, innocent or not. We can’t save everyone and this is war. But Rick took a shot right to the heart with losing Carl and he deserves a break to grieve and I want to give him that.

“I’ll keep fighting. Until you’re ready.” I tell him. I want him to rest, to take time. I worry when I see the loss in his eyes, the light that was there snuffed and dark.

“I’m ready,” Rick says, unflinchingly.

Of course he is. He’s always going to stand back up. He’s always going to fight for family.

“Maggie’s got lookouts out there,” he continues.

“Every half mile. Waiting to signal each other. I know,” I say, my voice a low rumble, speaking quietly so he has to stay close to hear me.

“Yeah. I’m going too. Make sure we’re all ready.”

“I’ll go with ya.” My belly did flip-flops as I said the words. Was I too eager? Did he know yet? Did he know the secret I keep from even myself? The way he is my everything can only mean one thing. It’s love, I let myself think for the first time. I would let him love me and I would love him back so much he’d never be lost looking for it again. He’d have me.

“We should split up,” he says. “We’re covering as much ground as we can.”

The words sting and the rejection jabs at me like knives. _We should split up, Daryl. We can’t let this happen between us. _It hurt worse than spilling blood or broken bones.__

__“Alright,” I say, the disappointment clear in my voice._ _

__“I’m okay,” Rick says, his eyes insisting to me that his words were true._ _

__“Yeah?” I ask, calling his bluff. It’s hard to look at him sometimes. His wavy curls and tanned skin, so familiar to me, his eyes, crystal blue and glassy – the tears in them are too much for me to bear._ _

__And he rephrased his words because he feels me and I feel him. And I know it’s a lie._ _

__“I’m _gonna_ be okay,” he clarifies._ _

__I want to hug him so bad. Want to take him in my arms and hold him, try to keep the world away from him, bury him in love and understanding. My love for him is too big for me to carry quietly. I want him to know, but he starts to walk past me._ _

__“Daryl,” he says, pausing and looking back. “Thank you...for getting ‘em here.” There was more in his look. It was unfinished, left open for another time. But Rick is focused now on doing._ _

__And he walks away. With words left unsaid and an emptiness in the air where a hug should be. Maybe he doesn’t have in him what I have in me. Maybe those looks he’s always given me don’t mean what they feel like. They feel like love and dedication and loyalty. They feel like forever and everything. Maybe I’m no more family than Maggie or Rosita. As much as I know him, there is this one thing I can’t figure out. Regardless of what I feel between us, I’ll take whatever he’ll give me...and I’ll be happy with whatever that is._ _


	2. Rick’s POV

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rick’s POV of the same moment with Daryl.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you lotr58!

Returning to Hilltop without Carl is like crawling back home without an arm. I suppose I should be glad to have been by his side, to have had the chance to say goodbye, but it’s little consolation. He’s gone. Just gone. One of the Alexandrians brings me my baby and I hold her, fiercely protective, my only child. My eyes find Daryl like they always do and he gives me an understanding nod that feels like a warm hug. There are whole paragraphs in that look and I understand every word of it.

Daryl feels me. And I feel him. And I know he’s hurting for my son, too. But he’s mostly worried about me. He’s the shepherd that always guides me, the blanket that always comforts me. He knows this. And he wants me to know he’s still here by my side no matter how far apart we might be.

I wonder if he knows why I wanted Michonne to take Judy to Hilltop at first - that it felt more right for Daryl to be with Carl and me. Michonne’s own grief was her priority, and I don’t begrudge her that. But Daryl’s priority would have been me, and I selfishly wished I could have had him. I needed him. But it just didn’t work that way and I had to say goodbye to my boy without my...my strength, my comfort, my...Daryl.

I know he wants to talk so I walk behind Barrington House, getting used to taking footsteps on an earth without Carl. My feet are heavy and unsteady and I kneel while I wait for him. I know he’s following me. He’s the only one who feels the extent of my grief. I hear him purposefully rustling in the weeds behind me. He knows I was expecting him.

“You know...I look around,” he says, “and I think about the people that are gone and the people that are still here. It ain’t right and it ain’t fair.” 

He gives me no platitudes, no false hope, no coddling. He gives me his understanding. He tells me what I want to hear- the truth. It isn’t fair. It isn’t right. And Daryl understands that like I do. No “there’s nothing you could have done”. No “it gets easier with time”. No empty “I’m sorry’s”. It ain’t right and it ain’t fair and I want to scream it from the rooftops.

“Look, about what I did at the Sanctuary,” he continues, “ trying to end it real quick...I just wanted it done. I didn’t want to give them another chance. Not again. I didn’t care who was there. I don’t know if that makes it right or…”

“It does.” I say and I stand to look at him, the emotion in his eyes ripping me apart. He cares so deep I can’t see the bottom of it. “I didn’t want to risk killing innocent people. I should have just been worrying about our people. Hell with anyone else,” I growl. 

I have regrets. Boatloads. So many that I need help to carry them, and I know Daryl will help me. He’d give me anything. And I wonder if he knows that I’d give him anything, too. Now that Carl’s gone, I’d die for him. Because I can’t walk on an Earth without either of them on it.

“I’ll keep fighting. Until you’re ready,” he tells me. He wants me to rest, to take time. But I can’t just sit here. I’m not ready to be completely devoured by Carl’s death. I have to keep moving. Keep doing.

“I’m ready,”I say, with a renewed strength. “Maggie’s got lookouts out there…”

“Every half mile. Waiting to signal each other. I know,” he says, his voice a low rumble, speaking quietly so I have to stay close to hear him.

“Yeah. I’m going too. Make sure we’re all ready,” I say. I can’t sit still. I need forward movement. When I stop I will collapse and I’m not ready to give in to that yet.

“I’ll go with ya,” he says. And my heart swells from the childlike tone of his voice and the thoughts behind his words. I think he loves me, though I’m not sure if he’s allowed himself to think it yet.

But I can’t have him come with me. Not yet. Not now. If he’s by my side, just us out there, I’d rip off his clothes and climb into his arms seeking that warm gentle comfort I hear in his words. My emotions are so overwrought that I have no doubt I’d cry all over him then kiss him breathless as I desperately took whatever he would give me. Now is not the time for that. But it will be soon.

My “I love you’s” to Michonne are coming out tinny and hollow. Passionless. My desire revolves around Daryl...like it always has. It’s not a phase. Not an abnormality. It’s me loving someone more than life itself. And I want him to have me. But not right now. “We should split up,” I finally say. “We’re covering as much ground as we can.”

“Alright,” he says, biting at the inside of his cheek. I hurt him. And I shatter apart into even more broken pieces because of it. All he wants to do is give me comfort and company. I need him to know that he’s my forever and everything. His puppy dog eyes still bore into me with worry and I want to stop the world and fall into his arms. But I’m not ready.

I answer his unspoken question. “I’m okay.” 

“Yeah?” he ask, calling my bluff. He’s the only one that would.

“I’m _gonna_ be ok,” I amend.

“Daryl,” I say, after I force myself to start walking away. And he looks back at me, desperate to pick up my pieces. I want to tell him that I love him. Unconditionally. Passionately. Permanently. I want to tangle myself in his arms as I confess my love. But I can’t stop yet. I can’t focus on anything yet. I have to move. I have to fight.

“Thank you...for getting them here.”

It’s not what I wanted to say. Nothing close. What I wanted to say was thank you for being my friend, my brother. Thank you for holding me up when I can’t stand on my own. Thank you for looking at me the way you do because it makes me want to live. It’s the only thing that makes me want to live. I love him and I only hope that he loves me too. I feel him and he feels me. But this one thing is hard to discern. I feel like he wants me the same way, but he’s gentle with everyone’s pain. Carol. Tara. Maybe I’m seeing more than what’s really there.

I vow before I walk away that I will tell him. I will show him. By days end. I will give him everything I am and hope that in return he can give his everything to me.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Should I keep going on this? Or continue working on one of my other WIPs? WIP #1 is Based off of the movie Regarding Henry. WIP #2 is a cop fic where Daryl is the bitter veteran cop and Rick is the enthusiastic Rookie. WIP #3 is the Jesus version of “what is seen and what is”. And WIP #4 is Abraham’s version.
> 
> Would love to get your input!


	3. Rick

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to lotr58!!

That evening after the battle I tell Daryl I found a spot in Judith’s room where we can sleep. He nods and grunts, his way of saying “thank you” and “I’ll see you later then.”

After I pull some boards off the windows of the baby’s room to let in some ventilation, I sit and watch as Judith hovers over Gracie, playing with her like she was a delicate China doll. I would touch Daryl tonight like that. Delicate. Flesh against flesh, the heat of him warming my body. It’s not unheard of for us to sleep tight together, but this time I would bring words, confessions, and promises. If he rejects me, at least I’d know for sure. My nerves and my confidence argue over the end result and I sit there, blank. Spent. Exhausted. And in need of the comfort of another body. A specific body.

I want to feel the tickle of the fine hairs along his arms as he holds me. Want to bury my nose into his shoulder and smell him, inhale him, memorize him. Time is short and I’ve forgotten how fragile every moment is, like a hollowed out egg shell or the petals of a dying flower.

I hear Daryl in the hall talking with Tara about Dwight. He’s so conflicted, I can tell. He wants to hold on to his hatred, to cultivate it, and grow it into revenge. But a part of him feels a companionship with the other man. An understanding. How is it I could know this but still be unsure of how he will respond to my advances? The answer is simple. Going from “I think maybe he does” to “It’s over. There’s no hope. He doesn’t want me like that”. 

The risk of confession could end with the loss of hope that has always been a bright spark in me even during the darkest times. Did I want to give that up?

I hear the door creak open. By this point I’d put both of the young ones down to bed and I can see their chests rise and fall in the shadows.

The room is lit only with the dim light from outside the window, the union of an overcast night and a full moon. 

“Rick?” he whispers.

“Over here, by the closet,” I answer.

He comes to me, quietly puts down his weapons and sits, shoulder to shoulder against the closet door. 

“We lost a lot of good people during that battle,” Daryl says, his voice like thick honey, dripping slow from the wooden spiral of a honey dipper.

“We did.”

“You’re okay?” he asks me, using as few words as possible. 

I nod. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m good. You?”

“‘M fine.”

We are quiet for a while, both of us watching over the girls, our minds crowded with a jumble of thoughts, one rolling over the other in a maelstrom of confusion and despair from the day’s events. I wonder if there is any room in his mind for me. I put a hand on his knee, keeping my eyes averted and I feel him rest his hand on top of mine. He pats my hand, his rough skin comforting over the goosebumps on my flesh.

Finally, I look at him, our hands touching, fingers beginning to intertwine. He says nothing and neither do I. Words aren’t often needed between us and maybe, just maybe, this was one of those times. His eyes are blue pools and I swim in them, trying not to drown.

I rest my head on his shoulder as his fingers caress mine and I feel him lean his head against my own. Intimate. Words without words. Confessions without confessing. I bring his hand to my forehead, lean on it a moment before I kiss it. He responds by pressing a light kiss to my head. No questions. No hesitation. 

He uses his fingers to turn my head to his and he looks at me like an open book, saying “read me”, “crack me wide open and take what’s inside”.

I let my eyes fall from his so I can focus on those lips. He licks them self-consciously and I lean in, forehead to forehead, giving him time to retreat. But he doesn’t. Instead he shivers against me, his breaths coming faster. I lean up and kiss his chin, then kiss again making sure my top lip brushes against his bottom. Then Daryl tilts his head and we freeze, no more than an inch apart. 

Slowly, he parts his lips and lets his tongue reach out to lick at my mine. It’s permission. Encouragement. It’s “Yes”.

I press my lips to his hesitantly and as our lips brush together I grow more brazen, part my lips and allow them to slot together. I feel his tongue swipe inside my mouth again.

I straddle him, our lips still connected, I feel his arms wrap around my back and his warm hands slide under my shirt and touch the skin above my jeans. My hands are on his cheek and his neck, holding him close and steady for me to devour. I kiss him hungrily like I was eating a peach, sucking and biting, slurping and licking. He returns in kind. He feels me and I feel him. There is no need for words.

I start to stand and pull him up with me, grabbing the handle of the closet and turning it. He reads my mind and slips inside it, waiting for me to follow. And I do. As I always follow. Always watch. Always want. 

Once inside the dark of the closet, he clutches the ends of my t-shirt and peels it over my head. I work at the button and zipper of his pants and before I know it we are both standing there skin-bare. I walk into his arms and bury my head into the curve of his neck. I nuzzle him as I feel the heat coming off his body. I look up at him and we talk without words. His eyes tell me he has no regrets, he’s been waiting for me and he wants to give himself to me. Hopefully, he reads in my eyes a similar message. But one that says “I’ll take you,” and “I’ll make you mine.”

Still no words as we run hands up and down one another’s heated flesh. I kneel down and he kneels with me, then quickly sinks lower so that his back is on the floor and his legs are wide open and inviting. He’s hard, thick, and leaking and I run a finger along his cock, collect some of his precum, then place my finger on my tongue and taste him. He is earthy and pure. 

I reach for my pants and pull out the packet of lube I’d been carrying with me in hopes of this very moment coming to fruition. I meet his eyes and nod as if to ask “Are you sure?”

And he bites his lip in response. It means “Yes”. It means “Now”. It means “I feel you and you feel me”.

I hold his hand with one of mine while the other, finger coated in lube, traces circles around his entrance. He is clenching tight. Nervous.

“Relax,” I whisper. “It’s just me.” He looks at the ceiling and bites at his bottom lip as I start to slide my finger into him. By the time I am moving it in and out, in and out, he’s closed his eyes tight and lets out a gentle whimper. When I have him ready, I slick up my cock and press slowly against him until he finally gives way and allows me to enter. The feel of his ass molding to my cock is incredible. I am inside him, part of him, one with him.

The squeeze of him strangles my cock. Tight. Wrapped. Warm. Once I’m fully seated in him, I run my hands up his body and down his arms until I am able to hold his hands in mine. 

And I ride him. In and out. Slow. Intimate. Wordless. He grasps my hands tight and I watch his slack jaw, eyes shut, eyebrows furrowed, lost in the feel of me inside him. 

When I come, he gasps along with me. I pull out of him and watch my seed dribble out. His cock is still hard and waiting so I wrap my lips around it and lap and suck and lick. I feel his fingers slide into my curls and his hips thrust up into me. He groans, forgetting to remain quiet. Gasps and holds my head tight to him as he shoots his load down my throat. I keep licking to clean him off and when we are both finally sated, I crawl up to him and curl into his arms to sleep.

I feel him tucking my wild curls behind my ear, kissing my forehead. “Rick?” he whispers.

I look up at him. He has no more words. “I know, Daryl,” I say in response to his wordless confession. “I love you, too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I will try to finish this by doing Daryl's POV of these moments.

**Author's Note:**

> I may write another from Rick’s POV.


End file.
